Redemption
by Rose in Misery
Summary: Previously posted in the Misc Musicals section, my sequel to Sweeney Todd, and what should have really happened had I a say in the ending. Not to insult Sondheim's genius, of courseRR please and enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This story is entirely, and 100 original. The events and situations were created by me, and me alone.

I don't own _Sweeney Todd _(although I wish I did!), nor the characters named from the play. The rest, however, are of my own creation. The characters and lyrics belong to the fabulous Stephen Sondheim. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!!!

**REDEMPTION**

By: _Rose in Misery_

**CHAPTER I:**

_These Are Desperate Times_

The air was a great deal too cold and damp inside the cell. One would think it'd be more pleasant since the diminutive cell was inside a larger building. That was the only thought that registered in Eleanor Lovett's mind as she started to regain consciousness. Flashes of the previous evening's events began to flood her mind as her body reminded her in physical pain of the abnormal strains she had been forced to endure. Images of a pair of icy clue eyes glazed over with a look of wicked thirst for vengeance. A waltz designed specifically to send her into the dancing flames of hell.

She had never been one with quick reflexes. Not when she had been forced into marriage at sixteen. Not when Albert forced her into bed every other night. Not when he beat her until bruises and cuts covered her petite frame, and she was out of breath. Oh no, Nellie was not particularly known for her quick reflexes at all. However, there were always exceptions to every rule. In Nellie's case, there had been two exceptions in the 36 years she had lived thus far. The first was the night she had put an end to her anguish and murdered her husband. The second was the previous evening as Sweeney Todd, former Benjamin Barker and the only person in the world other than herself she had ever cared about, attempted to end her life.

She had crouched away from his flailing arms and using her short stature to her advantage, she had managed to reach safety behind the counter, staying as far away as she could from the threatening gaping mouth of the flaming oven.

Lovett had no recollection of the events that followed her victorious escape. She fainted the instant her trembling hands had touched the rough surface of the countertop. She had never been one to have lady-like fainting spells, but for motives unknown to her, she had been experiencing them quite often in the past two or three months. She had meant to go to the Apothecary to acquire some solution for her situation, but as her business grew more profitable, it also became more demanding and she had never found the appropriate moment to do so. Now, as she lay uncomfortably in what she had identified as a reformatory cell, she began to regret not going to the Apothecary. She would have gotten rid of her problem, and perhaps would be able to remember what had happened to her, and to the man she loved.

Voices could be heard in the distance, along with the unhappy screech of a door opening. There were footsteps, and a man close to 6 feet tall, clad in an elegant dark navy waistcoat and with a glistening silver cravat approached her cell. He had immaculate blond curls slicked back; his emerald eyes were smeared with a faint look of pity, and he spoke in a rich and gentle accent that resonated profoundly in the enclosed space.

"Mrs. Lovett, I presume?"

Lovett didn't make a move. It was agonizing for her to do so; but instead she opened her eyes to look at him, and attempted to speak, which resulted in a moan barely louder than a whisper.

"I am very sorry, madam, to see you in such conditions. I was just informed of the strenuous incident you were forced to endure last evening. My name is William Collins, and I am here to retrieve and transfer you to more… accommodating conditions. A doctor has already been called for, and rest assured that you will be examined directly."

Collins presented her with too much information in a very short amount of time. Lovett's mind was beginning to fog, and the last thing she saw before she once again blacked out was the strange man making a move towards the door and calling out for help.


	2. Chapter 2

Night time had finally fallen upon the city of London

**CHAPTER II:**

_The History of the World, My Pet…_

_Night time had finally fallen upon the city of London. Up in his parlour, Sweeney Todd fixedly cleaned his instruments, one by one with meticulous care. She watched him from the doorframe, silently following his every move._

_He seemed to be in a good mood. The top buttons of his collar were undone, and he tapped his foot softly to a music only he could hear as he examined the details of his precious razors. The carefully engraved initials B.B.; the glistening handle and the scathing blade still dripping with blood._

_She lived for these moments. She cherished every second when she had the opportunity to watch him whilst he was unaware of her presence. He was almost child-like, with a small touch of innocence in his actions and expressions. He suddenly turned and saw her standing, her diminutive frame clad in a soft cotton nightgown, and blocking the entrance. Her long fiery curls were no longer up in their usual chignon, but flowing freely down her back, and shamelessly gleaming under the candle light; her coffee-brown eyes looked at him with that customary affection she reserved for him alone, and her lips curved in a tired, but loving smile. At this moment, Eleanor Lovett almost looked beautiful._

_For a short instance, neither individual made a move. They simply stood there, examining each other. Sweeney seemed transfixed, with an unearthly look in his silvery eyes, whilst Eleanor began to make her way towards him carefully, yet with confidence. When she reached him, she slowly stood on her tiptoes, and without a second thought pressed her lips to his, closing her eyes as she did so._

_Sweeney did not respond to the kiss at first. As Eleanor was about to withdraw, wounded by his rejection, he buried his large hands into her hair and kissed her with ardent fervour. She pulled away cautiously and looked at him, finding his eyes full of desperation, desire, and a small hint of hope. He kissed her again, and this time she did not pull away, but tugged at his shirt. His hands began roaming her body, grabbing handfuls of the smooth fabric that currently served as a barrier between him and what he sought after._

_Eleanor once again pulled away from him, and placing her small hand inside his larger one, she led him down the stairs, into her small quarters and closed the door._

The harsh light of the sun greeted Eleanor Lovett as she opened her tired eyes. The first thing she noticed was that she was surrounded by white all around. There were white walls, white curtains, white bedclothes, and a small wooden-brown crucifix atop the bed.

_"Is this Heaven?"_ was the first thought that ran through her mind. Then, the mockery of the question hit her and sent her into a reel of painful child-like giggles. She was not clothed in one of her usually fancy garments, but was instead she wore a simple chemise, with a soft and light pair of drawers. She struggled to sit up, but the attempt sent such a sharp throb through her entire body that caused her to resist immediately. She settled for staring at the high ceiling, and hoping for the appearance of any face.

Soon, her wish was granted as a small man in a fancy waistcoat and cravat, carrying a black leather bag walked in, fixing his spectacles on his oversized nose before he made a move to speak.

"Nice to see you are finally awaken, Mrs. Lovett." His voice was much too high for a man, and Lovett had to use all her strength to not burst into another fit of giggles.

Before she was able to reply to his greeting, the doctor continued.

"My name is Doctor Bennett. I was hired by the police department to serve as your personal physician, Mrs. Lovett, as it seems that you have taken quite a blow in these past few days. Now, then, where shall we start? You are very badly bruised indeed, Mrs. Lovett." Stated the doctor, once again fixing his spectacles.

"It don't take a bloody physician to discover that, doctor." Replied Lovett in a hoarse voice, finding that it hurt even to swallow.

"Yes… well." Doctor Bennett cleared his throat as an indication that he was about to proceed.

"Your ankle was very badly harmed, and the task of walking promises to be a rather agonizing one for perhaps as long as a fortnight. Your left wrist is, without a doubt, broken, and during the two days whilst you remained unconscious, I set the bones in place, however do not expect it to heal properly at your age."

At this comment, Mrs. Lovett's eyes widened with rage as she reached for the blankets.

"Now, you listen to me, little man. You got no right to barge in here like the bleedin' saviour 'imself and… well, talk to me in such a manner! You can save those 'elpful commentaries fo' your other patients."

The doctor, however, seemed to ignore her outburst. He fixedly adjusted his cravat. After she was finished, he continued.

"You are not to strain yourself for the next little while, and there will be absolutely no talk of you getting out of the confinements of these quarters. You are permitted to start sitting up in bed and attempting to walk only when there is help at your service, which will be provided three times a day for five and forty minutes. Is that clear, madam?"

Mrs. Lovett looked at him, her countenance filled with disbelief.

"Wot's tellin' me I should trust you, sir? If I feel I gots the strength, why shouldn't I try to get up? Innit better fo' me to get out of this bloody place sooner?"

Doctor Bennett simply looked at her with annoyance in his eyes.

"I suggest, Mrs. Lovett, that you follow my instructions directly, if you in fact desire to have a successful and healthy pregnancy."


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER III:

**CHAPTER III:**

_His Skin Was Pale, And His Eye Was Odd_

Eleanor Lovett lost consciousness once again; however, the reasons this time around were quite different. A child? This was the punishment God had decided to bestow upon her for her sins? A child?! She had it understood that women of six and thirty were not fertile anymore. With thus state of mind, she saw her rendezvous with Sweeney Todd quite harmless. Now she was mentally cursing her ignorance.

When she awoke again, the doctor had already vanished, and she was once more taunted by her incessant thoughts. She did not want a child. She had nothing to offer to it, and with her rather… _eventful_ past, the creature would surely hate her as soon as it was able to think for itself. She had never wanted a child, even in her youth, and the circumstances under which the one growing inside of her was created were not precisely the rightful or adequate.

A bastard; that was what she was housing in her womb. A bastard child of the infamous "demon barber of fleet street". What would he think of her if he knew? Would he attempt to murder her again, despite her pregnant state, or would he recognize their child, and grant her the forgiveness she desperately sought after?

They, neither of them, had a soul. They were both capable of anything, and despite of the infinite love she felt for him, he terrorized her. He loathed her at present. The unborn child would only anger him even more, she was sure. The option of disposing of the infant after it was born was always open to her. It would be a nameless child, and no one of importance would care to give it a second glance. She was soulless, and her heart merely had sufficient room for the memory of a certain pair of silvery-blue eyes. She would simply have to make sure to not be attached to the creature and dispose of it as soon as it was born.

"You understand, Mr. Todd that you currently stand under the charge of the homicide of approximately thirty citizens?"

The guard spoke in a defensive voice, looking down at the crumpled form of the older man. Shackles adorned his bloodied wrists, and repugnance was set ablaze in the silvery eyes of Sweeney Todd, as he stared at the man in front of him, blood dripping down his ashen face. His eyes fell upon the corner of the handle of the man's rifle, which wore a drying stain of the same blood, and he grunted angrily.

"I have it understood that among the list of names, the honoured Judge Turpin, and his assistant, Beadle Bamford, are included. Have no doubts, sir, that I will personally make sure that you are hanged as soon as the bodies of these or any other of the disappeared gentlemen are found."

Sweeney chuckled at the man's last comment.

"Is that the evidence you seek to hang me, Collins?"

The man seemed confused by his question.

"Uh… yes, sir. That is all the evidence we require."

At this, Sweeney looked up, locking eyes with William Collins and causing him to take a short, but evident step back in fear.

"Then, _sir_, you are more than welcome to keep looking."

William Collins made no response, but instead made a hurried dash out the door. The heavy wooden door muffled the voices outside, but a few moments later two armed men entered the room and carelessly unlocked Sweeney's irons. They tied a heavy and thick rope around his coarse wrists and assisted him in standing up. Sweeney was well over half a foot taller than both guards, and a demand for respect and obedience stemmed from his persona. Both men, scared of the criminal, avoided his fiendish eyes at all costs.

They half dragged him out of the dirty room, and led him through a series of darkened hallways, ultimately stopping in front of a large iron door. One of the guards took out a hefty ancient-looking key, and unlocked the door open. On the other side, a row of desolate and uncomfortable-looking cells met Sweeney's sight. He was once again dragged down a hall, and suddenly, before he had time to register what was happening, the rope was cut from his wrists and he was thrown into one of the cells.

The sound of the receding steps of the guards met his ears, and he sank down unto the cold stone floor, gently rubbing his throbbing wrists. He took off his worn overcoat, and removed his white linen shirt. Clad only in his undershirt, Sweeney ripped the soft fabric into strips. One he used to wipe the drying cut on his forehead, and with the other two, he carefully wrapped each of his wrists. He used the remains of the shirt as a bundle to rest his head on as he lay himself down on the ground.

A speckle of stars was visible through the barred window as Sweeney Todd's thoughts wondered away to a certain obnoxious and dreadfully alluring woman of short stature and a big mouth. He would slaughter Eleanor Lovett the instant the tedious Collins realized there was no evidence to be found, and he was set free. He would hunt her down, and he would find her and make her pay for the evil deeds she did to him. Perhaps he'd steal a kiss or two before he sent her to the flaming depths of hell…

_As the little minx escaped his grasp and faltered away to safety, he had wisely chosen to stop and dispose of the corpses of Judge Turpin and of his beloved Lucy. Tears blurred his vision as he kissed her ghostly-pale mouth once more before placing her into the over. Shutting the gaping mouth of the oven, he began searching for his accomplice._

_A sudden movement caught his eye and deciding to examine what it was, he moved towards the shivering form of whom he instantly recognized as the silly youngster Lovett looked after. Toby, was it? The boy looked up at him, his eyes full of fear and Sweeney noticed that in his quivering hands he held his shining razors. Upon seeing them, his silver eyes lit up and he reached for them. The boy jumped back in fear and in a flash, he brought down the blade and sliced the top of Sweeney's hand._

_Shock filled the boy's face and he dropped the razor as if it burnt his hand. He pressed himself closer into the corner as Sweeney's eyes stared at him, motionless, and giving him the impression the older man was able to see into his very soul. Then, as if nothing had happened, Sweeney reached for the razors once again, wiped the blood on his soiled trousers, and placed them in his pockets._

_"Get out." _

_His voice was low and dangerous, and Toby did not need to be told twice. However, just was he was about to make a dash up the stairs, a wave of courage swept him up and he marched straight back to where Sweeney stood unmoving. _

"_Wot did you do with me ma'm, Mr. Todd, sir? You mustn't get angry at her… she ain't bad; I swears… she just fancies you, tha's all. Silly fancies. She's got a good 'eart, she does."_

_Sweeney turned his eyes down towards he boy's face and found something unexpected. His watery eyes were full of what seemed like sorrow, earnest, and genuine fondness._

"_Get out, Tobias." He repeated._

"_But Mr. Todd, sir… please…" The boy insisted._

"_Get out, I say!" He yelled; then softly, added, "I shall look for Mrs. Lovett directly, boy. Do not trouble yourself."_

_Tobias sagged his scrawny shoulder and made a move for the stairs, stealing one last, unnoticed look at the figure of the damned barber of Fleet Street before he ran towards his freedom._

_When he made sure that the boy had left the building, Sweeney began his search for Mrs. Lovett._

"_Oh, Nellie? Do come out, darling. I believe the danger is over now, my pet."_

_No response._

"_Eleanor, love, you are not enhancing the situation by hiding from me. There aren't very many places where you can hide, my dear."_

_Finally, his eyes fell on the blood-spattered counter, where the woman in question, aided by him on numerous occasions, prepared the meat for her much-acclaimed pies. His gaze moved downward, and was met with a pale hand adorned with calluses, dirt and specks of dried blood, slightly twitching. He made his way to the counter, like a panther closing in on its prey, and peered over the top, his height aiding him in getting a better look at Lovett._

_Sweeney encountered the woman breathing with difficulty and delirious, moaning and panting in evident agony. He was torn between ending her life at that moment, and attempting to save her from her suffering. If he ended her life, he would have finally avenged his precious Lucy, and his lost daughter, and he would be able to make an escape and start a new life in another country; perhaps in Australia, or even the Americas. As appealing as the option sounded, he was unable to deny to himself that the hateful woman had firmly lodged herself into his heart and mind._

_Sighing to himself, Sweeney made his way around the wooden counter and knelt down beside the trembling form of Eleanor Lovett, putting a hand to her forehead. Her face was drenched in sweat, her cheeks tinted a deep crimson, and her entire body was burning up. She was mumbling incoherent phrases, and her other hand was tightly clutching her bodice. Sweeney carefully lifted her bodily into his arms and made his way upstairs, making sure he wouldn't make any drastic movements that would cause her any more pain._

_He reached his quarters and placed her wreathing frame on the creaking bed, making sure she was facing down. The moment he had taken her into his arms she had calmed down the slightest bit, but painful moans still escaped her mouth. He slowly unbuttoned the intricate muslin bodice, and lifting her up into his lap, he freed her from it along with the heavy skirts. After removing the two layers of petticoats, he found himself face to face with another row of pearly white buttons, enclosing her corset cover. He ran his coarse fingers through the soft fabric, feeling the hard boning of the confining corset underneath, before he began to undo the new set of buttons. Once the cover had been removed, Sweeney took his razor from his pocket, cut off the leather ties of the silk corset, and slipped it off Eleanor's petite frame, leaving her clad only in her pastel cotton camisole. Her painful breathing slowed down and she began shivering. He wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to keep her warm as he searched for a shawl or linen blanket somewhere around the room._

_Deciding to rummage around Eleanor's own quarters, Sweeney slowly made an attempt to get up. That was when he heard the front door of "Nellie's Meat Pies" thrust open, and the sound of a million footsteps running up the stairs were heard._

_A man clad in a fancy waistcoat, with slicked blonde curls and emerald-green eyes entered the room, coming face to face with Sweeney Todd, in a rather compromising position. A man dressed fairly elegantly, with an unconscious and scantily clad lady on his lap and remnants of thus lady's wardrobe scattered around the floor in a reckless manner._

"_Mr. Todd?"_

_Sweeney's eyes met his, responding to his name._

"_I suggest you step away from the lady and come with me, sir." Added the man, once again glancing around the room._

_Clutched on his right hand, Sweeney noticed, the man had a blood-red muffler._


End file.
